


The house

by Imawesomebro



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Poetry, Bad Writing, Character Death, Dark, Gen, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Sad Ending, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imawesomebro/pseuds/Imawesomebro
Summary: Empty. Silent. Bland.Never enough. Never enough love. Never enough attention. He's never enough.More. Always more. He needs more. More love, attention, adoration.It's never enough because he can't keep it, can't make it stay. He can't make them stay.Unfinished work. Sorry.





	The house

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't really good. But I recently updated as of 8-27-2020 I was thinking of several different characters when I wrote this. Like Jaskier from the Witcher, Tony Stark from the Avengers, Natsuo from My Hero Acadamia etc. So it's about a lot of characters while being about none of them. So I made it a original work. My tumblr is @mybullshitproblems so go there if you want to go to my tumblr for whatever reason.

The house is bland but for pretty trinkets. The house is quiet but for whispers and quick feet. The house is empty but for shadows. The house is large and grand but for the fact that no one’s there to fill it up.  
He wishes nothing more than to fill the silence, the darkness, the emptiness with something. He wants to push it back. So he decides to replace the silence with beautiful sounds, to chase away the shadows with a brightness so bright it scalds, to make the empty nothingness less. Only when he’s at his loudest, his brightest will they look at him. But it is only a glance, a flicker of the eyes. It is not enough.  
He decides to make sounds that are beautiful enough to keep eyes on him. To make sounds that will make them want to give him all of their attention, all of their love.  
One day, he makes a sound beautiful enough to make them stay, to keep their attention longer than a moment. Long enough to feel appreciated. But not long enough to feel loved. Not long enough to feel enough.  
He works hard every day, to get better, to be productive, to be something. To be worthwhile. So he creates and creates and creates and creates. They stop and look and listen and appreciate what he gives. It is never enough. They always leave.  
They have expectations he can’t live up to binding him until it cuts. They have knowledge stuffed into his head until it cracks. They have dreams for him he is repulsed by strangling him until it nearly kills him. They never look at him.  
He leaves too, in the end. He doesn’t look back. He got tired of being pushed and pulled and shoved and thrusted and poked, he got tired of the bruises, he got tired of going in circles. Of the demands that he live the story they wrote for him. If he lives the story, he’ll get all of the emptiness, the shadows, the silence. So no, he doesn’t look back. They never did.  
So he goes, he runs until he can’t, and then keeps running. He doesn’t stop, he can’t stop. He is out of the house, he is seeing, being, trying, living new things, better things. He is more. He is loved, seen, known. He is alive. But he feels like he’s still in that house. Like he hasn’t left it. He feels like he is that house. Like it never left him.


End file.
